


blink

by their_dark_materials



Category: IT (Movies - Muschietti), IT - Stephen King
Genre: As He Rightfully Deserves To Be, But only if you squint, Character Study, Eddie Kaspbrak is a Little Shit, Gay Richie Tozier, Holiday Traditions, M/M, Richie Tozier Loves Eddie Kaspbrak, Teen Crush, Unrequited Crush, of feelings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-23
Updated: 2020-12-23
Packaged: 2021-03-10 19:02:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,304
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28272084
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/their_dark_materials/pseuds/their_dark_materials
Summary: Richie knows he’s probably being too obvious, that any one of the others could call him out on it any second. But it’s not like he has any control over it. That’s all that’s been on his mind lately.Eddie. Eddie. Eddie.
Relationships: Eddie Kaspbrak/Richie Tozier
Comments: 5
Kudos: 64





	blink

**Author's Note:**

  * For [dasheroyjackson](https://archiveofourown.org/users/dasheroyjackson/gifts).



He’s trying his hardest not to stare too much, to not let his gaze linger. But every time Eddie so much as utters a word, Richie finds his eyes wandering across the room to where he’s tucked into the Tozier breakfast nook, cast resting on the kitchen table, just like it has been all afternoon.

He knows he’s probably being too obvious, that any one of the others could call him out on it any second. But it’s not like he has any control over it. That’s all that’s been on his mind lately. _Eddie. Eddie. Eddie._

Richie looks over. Mike’s saying something. Bev and Eddie are listening intently; Eddie’s mouth is open, slack in that way he sometimes smiles, like he’s keeping it ready, warming up so he can respond immediately, words tumbling out a mile a minute.

Richie blinks and Eddie _laughs_ , a light almost-giggle. In his hand a cookie cracks, the edge of a gingerbread square fragmenting in his hand.

“Richie.”

It probably says a lot that Stan doesn’t sigh. Just looks from his face down to his hands and takes the still largely intact “wall” from his hand, handing it over to Bill on his other side, a big bowl of icing resting in front of them on the kitchen counter. They’ve been at this for a while now, intent on helping Ben construct his gingerbread masterpiece as a Christmas surprise for his mom. Richie’s already dubbed it “Haystack Manor.” The title hasn’t really stuck yet — and not for his lack of trying.

Eddie must hear because he looks over just as Richie glances up at him again, eyes big and brown and curious. Richie doesn’t know if he wants to melt down to the floor from the flames slowly eating the sides of his cheeks the second their eyes meet or if he wants to reach across the space and squeeze Eddie’s face between his hands; unable to believe that eyes that big could sit in a face that small.

_Cute. Cute. Cute._

Richie’s stomach flutters violently, a low bellied swoop that he has come to associate with one Eddie Kaspbrak. He watches as the other boy cocks his head to the side, worry evident in the thin press of his lips and then-

It happens quickly — like all things with Eddie must. Richie blinks and suddenly Eddie’s pulling a face: tongue stuck out past those same pink lips and eyes crossed in a way that would make his mother scream bloody murder.

Richie’s heart _thumps_ extra loud as his belly flutters again. But he blinks and then it’s over. He almost wants to cry out with the shock of it.

Another blink. Another face. Eddie shaping his features into yet another silly expression. It’s goofier than the first one and Richie’s chest is full with it, can feel it pressing against his ribs as his heart proceeds to race faster and faster.

 _Eddie. Eddie. Eddie_.

(Sometimes he wonders if that’s why Eddie’s always trying to catch his breath, because Richie’s been holding his all this time. His own and then a little extra; lungs swelling anytime Eddie so much as smiles at him, stretching impossibly further with every push, every shove, every _Shut up Richie_. Because he never does shut up, does he? Just keeps on talking and talking and talking. Until Eddie or one of the others decides to do something about it, always hoping it would be Eddie.)

 _Beep beep, Richie_.

Richie swallows back a smile and glances around. But no one seems to have noticed this show that Eddie seems to be putting on for his benefit alone; almost as if he’s watching and waiting for just the right moment, when no one else will see. A shared secret just between them. Richie’s ears start burning.

Eddie doesn’t seem to notice,grinning smugly, a wild look in his eye that sends shivers down Richie’s back as he remembers the last time he had looked at him like _that_. He’d been pinned to the floor of the clubhouse, Eddie on top, the two of them having fallen out of the hammock while arguing and Richie landing under him.

But instead of moving to get off or helping him get up, Eddie had continued tussling further, and Richie helpless, had no choice but to join him, trying to give just as good as he got; trying not to think of Eddie’s hands catching on his clothes, Eddie’s fingers and nails skimming bare skin, or Eddie’s breath hot in his ear, exhaling soft grunts as he’d grappled for purchase.

Eddie would tell you he’d won the upper hand, trapping Richie with the press of his thighs as he’d straddled his waist with dusty, scuffed legs and red, red shorts, one arm pushing down on Richie’s shoulder, the other clutched to his chest and still wrapped in a cast, still healing from when Richie had had to set it. (The sound of his screams still rings sometimes. But Eddie never did get around to killing him.)

Richie will tell you that he’d given up about halfway through, stomach twisting the entire time and his skin feeling hot all over and too tight for his bones, even under the loose, baggy layers of clothing he prefers. He’d been convinced Eddie would hear his pulse, thundering in his ears and almost drowning out the sound of Eddie’s rough pants but doing nothing to stave off the heat of them. So he’d lay there, out of breath and mind blank as he’d gazed up at Eddie, eyes bright and grinning down at him triumphantly. The sun streaming through Eddie’s short locks had looked a bit like a halo, catching on brown strands and floating dust motes. He’d wanted nothing more than to reach up and touch it, muss it up more than it already had been. Give Eddie one more reason to yell at him. 

Richie blinks and Eddie pulls a new face. If Richie didn’t know better he’d say he’d waited for him, laying in wait for his mind to float back. The face he makes is the biggest, most expressive one yet, features contorting in exaggeration. For someone so scared he might break with one touch, Eddie Kaspbrak’s damn near elastic.

But while this on its own is already teasing out the a laugh from deep in Richie’s core, what really gets him is the shine of pride in Eddie’s eyes, and the smugness radiating off of him in waves. It’s a wonder the others haven’t picked up on it yet. Then again, that’s nothing new either. Just Richie and Eddie being Richie and Eddie.

He doesn’t even try to hold back the laughter anymore, just erupts with an undignified snort, guffaws spilling out of him. For all his constant attempts to make Eddie smile, he’ll always be the funnier of them. The fastest. The bravest. The _cutest_.

“I-if y-you’re n-not going to h-help,” Big Bill’s in charge now, not even looking at Richie as he continues to layer on the icing, covering up the cracks Richie had created. “T-then g-go sit d-down.”

Richie knows he should feel embarrassment curl up around his neck, but his mind is filled with that warm, sudsy glow that only comes from having Eddie’s eyes on him. The other boy has since schooled his features back to neutral, no trace of what happened upon him. He looks so innocent it _feels_ like a dream, if not for that telltale twinkle, a hint of pride escaping unbidden. Once again, Richie feels like screaming, fingers itching to reach out and _touch_. To bring back that moment and hold it by the edges. 

Across from him, Bill’s awaiting an answer and Richie’s never been one to disappoint an audience. He tears his gaze away from Eddie’s.

“What?” He asks, not at all sore. It’s not like he’d been much help before anyway. The only reason he’d chosen to stand all the way out here was because he’d been trying hard not to stare too much at Eddie — something he can already feel himself start to fail at, itching to turn back and look at him.

“Can’t a guy just laugh for no reason?”

He pushes off the counter and takes a step back, letting his eyes drift back Eddie when he says that. He’s rewarded with pink stained cheeks and a small crooked smile. He wants to reach out and pinch it; feel the soft stretch and snap of Eddie’s cheeks in his fingers, see if there’s room for him to crawl in there and live amongst his teeth, tasting everything that makes its way in there.

 _Eddie_. _Eddie. Eddie._

Richie slouches over to the nook, feet dragging on tile, and opts for the side closest to Eddie, a seat open like he’s been waiting. Mike and Bev still slide to their right, making more room so Eddie can have that little extra space — not that he moves or takes it. Instead, he sits his ground and stares up at Richie, that same glint in his eye, arms crossed and smirking.

“You gonna move, Dr. K?” Richie asks, diving in headfirst. Eddie bristles but the brown of his eyes are defiant, chin jutting out stubbornly. 

Without waiting, Richie slides right in, pushing across the seat and crashing right into Eddie, their sides pressing together immediately; thighs, shoulders, and elbows touching. Eddie doesn’t budge an inch. Richie relishes all of it, not letting up any of the pressure. He can feel Eddie start to soften a bit, breath coming out in shallow huffs, chest rising and falling beside him.

In an effort not to focus on it, not let his own breathing sync up fully like he can already feel it doing, his gaze falls on the tray of gingerbread men they’d meant to have been decorating. But so far, they’re just sitting there, cooling. Richie reaches over and picks up the smallest one, holding it out so Eddie can see it clearly.

“This is you,” Richie says before biting its head clean off. He doesn’t bother to close his mouth as he chews, knowing full well Eddie hates it.

He blinks and emotions flash across Eddie’s face in rapid-fire, freckles shifting and moving across pink cheeks turning red as he goes from shocked to incredulous to white-hot annoyed, Richie’s ears are ringing preemptively from the volume he knows Eddie will reach. His stomach flutters in nervous excitement.

“Did you just fucking _eat_ my head?” Eddie’s voice curves high, bow pulled back tautly. Richie can feel it tugging him forward.

“Yes, my good SpaghEddie, it appears I did.” He knows Eddie hates his British accent, so he can’t help but reach for it, watching as the shell of Eddie’s ears start to redden to match his face too.

“Why the _fuck_ would you do that?” Eddie argues and Richie bites back a grin, watching as each blink reveals a redder face and brows knitting closer and closer together. “Do you know how messed up that is?!”

Richie’s heart _thumps_ loudly again. He smiles as Eddie continues his rant, eager to enlighten Richie of all the ways that what he did was dumb, Richie now the sole focus of his attention. Not Mike. Not Bev. Not Stan, Bill, or Ben. Not even the cookies in front of him.

Just him.

Richie Tozier.

He always did love the spotlight.

As if reminded of how this all started, Eddie’s back to shoving and pushing, using his one arm on the table as leverage. Richie holds firm, bringing one arm up to brace against the table as well. Eddie grunts and puts his shoulder into it. Richie can’t help but look at him as Eddie opens his mouth and takes off again, barely pausing between each new sentence.

 _I think I like you_ , he thinks not for the first time that day, helpless in the warmth that’s spread across his entire self, his heart and lungs both filled to the brim. His ears are filled up with the ratatat of Eddie’s latest rant, his nervous butterflies turning into a cyclone.

And just as soon as he started, Eddie then stills. One blink and Richie nearly misses it.

Another one and Eddie leans forward fast, Richie startles, but he does not move back. Just sits there staring in slow motion as Eddie lunges forward and bites the _neck and torso_ of his own gingerbread self, pulling back with a smug mouthful as he does so. He looks up at Richie through dark long lashes, daring him to say or do anything. Call attention to what’s just happened. To let that Trashmouth rumble.

Still stunned, Richie looks down at the undecorated pieces of a man in his hands, fully understanding how it feels to have Eddie Kaspbrak take a piece from your chest, leaving behind nothing but fragments, further at risk of disintegrating. One glance up at Eddie’s gleeful face and he doesn’t seem to care that his mouth was ever near Richie’s hand, that his lips may have grazed the side of his fingers; that Richie’s skin can still remember the ghost of it.

Richie blinks. Eddie grins wide. 

A few crumbs fall on the table.

Richie blinks and swallows, in for a penny and a pound. He shoves what’s left of the gingerbread man into his mouth, palm against lips, eyes locked onto Eddie’s the whole time, revelling in the way his eyebrows jump in surprise; thrilled he can still surprise him. Thrilled he can leave him speechless.

Richie blinks and sees Eddie swallow, the air around them stilling.

Richie blinks and watches Eddie lick his lips, so quick he nearly misses it.

Richie blinks and Eddie’s laughing again, the sound directed at him this time.

Richie blinks and laughs with him.

**Author's Note:**

> Beau wanted something Christmasy and warm that had a bit of tradition and also featured the other Losers and I couldn't help but oblige. Crushes are such an intense and lovely thing and I wanted something sort of celebrating those feelings and exploring the dynamic between Richie and Eddie as teenagers while both sort of pining away for each other, not that poor Richie has any clue. 
> 
> It was fun writing this version of Eddie because it's through Richie's eyes and he only ever sees the best in him. So Eddie here gets to be big and bold and brash and wild, just as he's always had the capacity to be even if his mother tells him otherwise. The emphasis on seeing/blinking was something I didn't hit on till later and it's something I really wanted to emphasise because so much of yearning is in what you see and feel and Eddie's so fast and kinetic to Richie that it feels so hard to pin him down, just as it sometimes can when you're in your feelings. 
> 
> If you have any thoughts, comments, questions, or concerns, please submit them down below!


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